


Polysemy

by FroldGapp



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: F/M, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Imprisonment, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Romance, SHEITH - Freeform, Slow Romance, Xenophilia, implied - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-01
Updated: 2017-10-01
Packaged: 2019-01-07 13:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12233784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FroldGapp/pseuds/FroldGapp
Summary: Imprisoned by a strange species after being separated from their teams, Acxa and Keith have to kill time instead of each other.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to give Keith some romance after whumping him in the last... all... of my pieces but this came out!
> 
> Hoping that S4 doesn't make this relationship super weird the moment it drops! Finger hovering over that edit button.

Arching her back, she stretches and toes the paladin’s slack cheek, still covered in oily slime. He doesn’t move. She huffs a breath through her nose, bored.

How embarrassing. Captured by a small army of slithering, eyeless rebels. She was distracted – separated from the others and wrestling with the red paladin who pirouetted out of her grasp only to spin back, twin blades whisting. The creatures dropped on them, first an errant maggot that left streaks down the paladin’s visor, then another, then another. Some exploded on impact with the ground, others congealed to make bigger creatures still. Soon, they were both swamped and unable to move. She should have known better. _Lotor_ would expect her to know better. She shouldn’t have let herself get drawn into the dance of the fight. She could have fled and left him there; jetpack sparking from her blaster shot.

‘Galra scum,’ they’d hissed as they ferried them both along on their bloated bodies.

‘I’m not galra!’ he’d rampaged in their mass. Helmet abruptly removed, he was quieted as the things poured into his nose and mouth. He hadn’t woken since.

‘Hey,’ she says, toeing his face again, her foreclaw leaving gouges in the dirty, slug-like film coating him. ‘Wake up.’

He doesn’t. She drops her head back against the wall. Her head casques clack on the damp stone. The sound doesn’t echo in cramped cell.

OoO

The creatures have grown arms, that much is evident as they man-handle she and the paladin into a large, tiled room. Or they’ve always had arms and just… She’s not sure. Details blur when she tries to remember the moment they were carried off from their clash in the deep caves of Arion 4.

The paladin stumbles on the slippery tiles, arms folded tightly across his bird-like chest. His back is deeply humped against what she assumes to be the chill, though she is comfortable enough. His knees are virtually knocking together. His bushy tuft of head hair is sticking out in every possible direction, stiffened with dried slime. They are both naked.

‘Clean,’ the creatures hiss, seemingly as one, and the door slips shut. With a sharp clank, mechanisms turn in the ceiling and freezing water rains down on them both. Freezing enough for her to jump in her thick skin. Their feet squeak on tiles, her pads doing nothing to steady her. She skids sideways and crashes into the paladin. They topple to the floor, and distantly she can feel her claws make purchase on the flesh of his upper arms as she shrinks away from the frigid torrent. They’re both screaming; he sharp, distraught barks, her an ululating cry of discomfort.

‘Get…’ He worms under her. ‘Off me.’ Blood runs in inky swirls over the tiles. So red. She’s struck suddenly by how easily she could punch through that long, pale throat and paint the whole room scarlet.

She withdraws, standing, a little more used to the cold now, and begins scrubbing at her hair, pits and crotch. The paladin scoots away to the far corner and aggressively does the same.

They are brought to a different cell, colder but drier, still naked. Goodness knows where her armour is. The paladin shakes terribly in the corner. She fills her time by counting the little bumps on his otherwise smooth back. No markings. No fur. Thin, near translucent skin.

‘Stop looking at me,’ he says, voice like a ribbon.

She smiles. ‘You don’t look like a galra,’ she says.

He adjusts himself, sitting with one leg tucked under him and the other knee tucked under his chin. ‘Because I’m not.’ He stutters on his words, teeth chattering.

He’s scared, she realises. Not that she isn’t. But there’s something beyond the terror of capture at play behind that curtain of dark hair. She eases herself off the wall and strides towards him.

‘More than you know, paladin.’ Again, she toes him. His calf this time. He jumps away from her, but glares up all the same.

Extraordinary eyes, dancing with indignation. She holds his gaze and finally, smiles. In the next moment, he deflates; all rage gone.

He coughs, uncomfortable. ‘You’re the galra from the weblum.’

She nods. ‘You saved my life.’

Another impressive shiver ripples through him. ‘I’m a paladin. That’s what we do.’ Again, he turns those eyes on her. ‘Sorry if it’s concept that goes over your head.’

‘What does that mean: “go over my head”?’

‘It means you don’t understand how to help people.’

She doesn’t agree. So she kicks him.

‘What was that for?’

She drops to a crouch, leaning into his space until she can see the dusting of minute stars across his nose. So he _does_ have markings. His eyes cross trying to hold her gaze this close.

‘We help people. Lotor helps people. I can help people.’

‘Who people? A bunch of bloodthirsty galra.’

‘No.’ She frowns, considers his shuddering body and the blueness of his lips. ‘Just one.’

‘Whu–’ he begins to say, as she drops down beside him.

‘Body heat,’ she clips, cutting him short so that his mouth closes with a muted click of teeth.

He tries to inch away but she corrals him with her left arm until he’s pressed against her. ‘Body heat,’ she repeats. ‘I’m sorry if it “goes over your head.”’

His mouth pops open and his eyebrows climb incredulously, but in the next beat his lips quirk into something like a smile. His eyes roam down the length of his body next to hers, pale and puckered with goosebumps. He pointedly avoids looking at her body until he reaches their feet. ‘This is weird,’ he says.

She laughs and folds her arms across her chest. ‘Is your species usually this uptight about their bodies?’

A genuine laugh. ‘Yes.’

Silence, then, shyly almost, perhaps a little questioning. ‘You’re so warm.’

‘Not all bad, then?’

No answer. Just sad eyes slipping closed.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Baddumpa dump!
> 
> Eh... shall be watching S4 with trepidation re: the ol' Star Wars possibility with these two...

Days pass. They’ve been fed, barely, but watered frequently. They are brought out for their toilet three times a day. They demand information but get none. They demand clothes, but get none. They demand heat-sun-light but get none. So their strange new ritual continues.

‘You’re small,’ she speaks into his hair and feels him shrug lightly, cabled muscles working just beneath her finger pads. They’re curled together, using the right angle of the walls for support. It’s almost an embrace, she recognises, but doesn’t care to give it further thought.

‘I guess,’ he mutters into the space between her neck and shoulder. Then he observes, ‘You don’t have fur.’

‘No,’ she says. ‘I’m glad. Too much work. Though you could use some. Your skin is very impractical.’ She pinches at his waist.

He snuffles his amusement then lifts his head. He studies her, and she considers for the first time how open his face is. Curious. Gentle even.

She smiles. ‘You’re wondering what I am. The uh… other part.’ He nods. ‘I’m… I don’t know.’ His large eyes are still on her, intense despite the hunger, the cold, the nagging fear that there’s no rescue party.

‘I don’t know what I am either. Galra and... what?’ he asks, too sullen for her taste. She headbutts him and he yelps, then scowls. It’s mildly adorable, like a kitten made of barbed wire.

‘Something bald and ugly,’ she says, mock serious.

His aghast face crumples into a grin and he folds himself against her, long hair brushing against her collarbone.

‘You’re lucky you’re warm.’

A tug on the hair that curls around his ears. ‘ _ I’m  _ lucky _? _ Every girl’s dream: personal heater to a cranky alien.’

She reaches, conscious of her claws as she cups the back of his head. His hair is so fine, velvet black as space. Her heart thuds. How horribly dangerous this is.

OoO

They’re supplied a basin and a couple of rags; told they are on lockdown and they’re responsible for cleaning themselves. No more freezing showers. They can only assume the others have started circling; locked onto their armour perhaps. Attempted rescue has made their captors nervous.

The pair sit facing each other. She towels at the little fold behind his ear and enjoys the hum that kicks up in the back of his throat.

‘Your noises are strange.’

He makes an ‘eh’ sound and shrugs. ‘Matter of perspective.’ He points to his head. ‘What are those?’

She pauses her ministrations and reaches up to run her fingers back along her casques. ‘Sort of… protection.’

‘The claws and teeth aren’t enough, huh?’

‘In this universe? Is anything enough? Besides...’ She wets the rag again, wrings it off. ‘You’re so round,’ she says. She brings the cloth up to his other ear. It shifts upwards when he grins and she tugs at his upper lip with her free hand, enjoying the roll of his eyes.  ‘See: all round edges. Even your teeth. They’re like… pebbles.’

He sputters, yanking his face free. ‘Pebbles?’

‘Like I said: round.’ She finishes and drops the cloth into the basin messily. Her eyes lock onto his and something drops in her stomach. ‘You’re…’ She searches for the right word. ‘You’re soft.’

The cloth drip-drips where it hangs over the edge of a basin.

‘Soft?’

‘Mmm.’

His eyebrows draw together in a confused frown. ‘I think you’re the only person who’s ever said that about me.’

She pauses, waits for an explanation that doesn’t come. Rather, the paladin picks up the cloth and indicates that she turn around. She does so, and sits back on her heels. He begins running the cloth up the length of her back. It bumps over her back ridges and sweeps down her sides. Her skin jumps. Her toes curl against her buttocks, claws digging.

He stops. He makes a weak attempt to continue then stops again when a soft moan escapes her.

Hairs rise at the nape of her neck.

‘I… unh...’ His voice trembles. ‘Want…’ A frustrated sigh. ‘May I touch you?’ The question rushes out in an embarrassing tumble of syllables.

She reaches behind her and guides his hand – blunt nails, cool palm – to her neck. His fingers dance delicately over her back, exploring every dip and ridge. Coy wonder is in his touch and she bites her lip with a sudden swelling of emotion. Hot breath ghosts across her spine. He’s waiting. Silently, she nods and velvet lips press against the taut muscle of her lower back. Up they inch until, soft as down, they rest where her hair meets skin. His breath comes short. She can feel heat running off his chest and onto her back.

‘Paladin,’ she whispers.

Gently, slowly, he turns her to face him. They’re pressed thigh to thigh, holding themselves up on trembling arms, her right hand on top of his left. She runs the thumb of her left hand over his brow, his temple. He closes his eyes with a sigh of surrender, and before she can think twice, she brings her lips to his. The first kiss is oddly chaste and when they separate, they’re both wet-eyed and staring. The second kiss is not.

Pants sound quickly, nose crushed to nose, teeth scraping, pulling. The paladin adjusts himself, rising onto his knees then pressing forward, crowding her against the wall. She pulls him by the back, curious at the sudden sheet of sweat and deeply thrumming muscles. A leg – hers or his – unsettles the basin. Cold water sloshes and startles them both. They don’t break the kiss but yelp, then giggle, shuffling away together with still-grappling hands. She pulls at his hair, wrenches it really, and wins a soundless howl against her mouth. He, contrary to his urgency remains reverent. He taps her hip softly with two fingers and she lies back on her elbows, eyes blown to full moons. He’s taking great, gulping breaths above her. His cheeks are burning with colour, his hair is plastered to his head and neck with sweat. He licks his lips and asks her, ‘Yes?’

‘Yes.’ Then, ‘Is this your first time?’

He swallows hard, then nods. ‘With a… With a woman, yes.’

She smiles and coaxes him forward until the hard plane of his body presses against her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Get at me: https://froldgapp.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

She jerks awake locked in the paladin’s arms. Beyond the door comes muffled blaster reports and a chorus of sibilant screams. Only when his slim fingers tighten sharply around her bicep does she realise he’s already awake. His entire body is primed and shaking with watchful vigour. She can hear him force air through his nose, then push it out in long, steadying breaths.

He presses a hard, hungry kiss to the space behind her ear. She runs her fingers up his thigh in turn, raising hairs in her wake.

‘They’ll try to kill one of us,’ he says quietly, chin resting on her shoulder. ‘Those things. As leverage. They think we’re on the same side.’

A moment, stung. ‘Right,’ she says. She fights the grief that bubbles up through her core. She slips from his hold; belly, back, thighs and mouth aching warm and dull from the night before.

He joins her on his feet and creeps towards the door, listening. After a few second’s straining at the door seam, he turns his bright eyes on her and grins dopily. ‘Want to use those big ears of yours?’

A few strides and she casually shoves him out of the way. Her heart plummets in her chest.

He knows immediately, and she despises the open, youthful relief that shapes his face. ‘The paladins?’

A distracted nod. Her heart is racing, panic creeping through her like a web of choking vines.

‘Hey, hey,’ he whispers. A touch to her shoulder, her elbow. ‘Wait, we can… we can _help_ you. Lotor’s he’s not– You’re better than this.’ He’s struggling. His voice ratchets up by vast degrees. ‘He’s dangerous. He has to be stopped!’

Terror drops in a sheet of red. She cannot be taken by the Paladins of Voltron.

He cries out as her claws plough through the meat of his cheek and across the bridge of his nose. Blood flies as he stumbles back against the wall. The blaster shots are almost at their door. She can hear voices now; voices like _his._

A laser streaks and connects outside. The paladin barely has time to raise his arms before she’s on him again, tearing him back by the hair then driving his head into the wall: one, two, three, four times. He drops unconscious to the floor. She wipes at her eyes and nose with the back of her arm. She tries not to think of the pink flesh under her claws like curls butter. Slowly, like a drunk, she teeters away from the growing pool of blood at her feet.

The door crumples open under the fire of a cannon. The yellow paladin’s sturdy figure is flanked by the blue and green paladins, Altean bayards ready. And there, arm charged, eyes murderous is the Black Paladin of Voltron.

She ducks and bulls forward, then weaves through shots like serpent. But as she leaps into a sprint she’s caught by the throat by a searing force that drives the smell of cooking flesh into her nostrils. Solid fingers tighten and something crunches.

‘Allura! Allura!’ the paladins are clamouring, shouting, calling for an extraction, for back up, for a healing pod.

‘Is he…?’ someone asks.

She’s dropped like a stone. Discarded. Bleary-eyed, she sees the black paladin charge into the room.

Shakily, she rises to her feet. Naked. Sore.

They’re calling his name. Again and again and again. She never knew his name. She never told him hers.

‘Vrepit Sa!’ she roars. Spit flies. ‘Vrepit Sa!’ And she’s running.

She does not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hit me up! https://froldgapp.tumblr.com
> 
> Keith is fine.
> 
> Probably.

**Author's Note:**

> Get at me! https:froldgapp.tumblr.com


End file.
